Without A Cause
by Captain Tea
Summary: What if, when Harry cast the Patronus in his fifteenth summer, the warning letters had arrived just a little too late? What would happen if Harry, in his panic, took action against those that came to arrest him? Well, only one way to find out, isn't there? Let's go on an adventure! With dark creatures, dark lords and ever darker magic. What fun!


**_1 - Not Guilty_**

_..the Ministry will arrive to destroy your wand shortly._

Harry narrowed his eyes, while biting down a curse. He was barely aware of his uncle slowly turning purple, his cousin a wreck on the floor, his aunt frozen.

Then it all came crashing down. Aurors, most likely, would arrive in moments to destroy his wand. His wand! They'd take his magic from him!

Emerald eyes flared viciously as he made up his mind - mere moments later his uncle slammed into the wall, _banished_, and the walls rattled.

Perhaps he'd found it amusing if he had the time to contemplate it, but as it was he flew up the stairs like a banshee; the door to his room slammed violently into the wall as he entered.

"What do I need?" Harry asked himself, casting a gaze around the messy room. Every second counted, he scolded himself, so stop wasting them!

Hedwig was not there - likely hunting, so he emptied his bag, fumbling around in the mess for a miniature broom; he stuffed it in his pocket. A shimmering sheen lay there also - the cloak, his - his forefathers before. Rolling it into a ball, he jammed it in with the shrunken broom.

No time, the voice in his head yelled, it's time to leave!

And certainly it was, as the moment he thought this the doorbell rang. He knew what it meant, and yelled "Don't open!" as he rushed out on the landing, training his wand on the door a dishelved looking Vernon Dursley was rapidly approaching.

Harry's uncle tore open the door, threw a glance at the robed men and looked just about ready to break down into an apoplexy when a red light zipped past him, slamming into a shimmering blue barrier now covering the doorway.

A second later Vernon Dursley found himself flying through the air once again, this time by Ministry protocol to disable and remove muggles from combat. Veteran aurors like these knew these procedures by heart from the last war, and the _Stupefy_ had hit the rather big muggle only a moment after he slid behind the living room wall.

Then the duel began, as the pair of highly educated aurors threw disarming hexes at the young student.

Harry, panicking as the red hexes came down upon him, batted them with his wand as if he were to be a beater; and to his great surprise the shimmering Expelliarmus changed course and fizzled out on the wall.

Wasting not a moment of this curious turn of events, he threw back a quick chain of spells; Stupefy, Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Stupefy! He had time for no more as he threw himself to the side to avoid a hail of magic; binding, stunning, disarming, he couldn't even identify them all.

Harry stumbled to his feet, singled out one of the aurors and threw a cautious disarming hex, which the man in crimson robes quickly shielded. Taking up the challenge with glee, Harry replied with another disarming hex followed by multiple stunning hexes and tripping jinxes, before he was forced to shield against a most curious pink beam from the other law enforcer.

He grinned as the beam ricocheted off his shield, leaving a singed spot as it drilled into the roof. Taking up heavier spells, were they? Well, two could play that game, and with that, Harry sidestepped a hex that had been cast as he had been distracted and leveled his wand at the aurors. Reducto!

Auror number two, whom had been his target, easily dodged the blasting curse; Harry grinned, the aurors swore, and they hastily erected a shield barrier as the wall shattered behind them; plaster, splints and wood sailing through the air at deadly velocities.

The moment the dust settled Harry launched a stunner at one of the aurors, whom batted it aside with ease.

"Harry James Potter," he said in a loud voice, keeping his wand trained at the teenager on the above landing, "you are under arrest for breach of the statute of secrecy as well as assault on ministry personnel. Lay down your wand and.."

He got no further as a wave of fire filled the room, and he barely had time to re-erect his _Protego_.

Auror Whileston glanced at his partner, whom met his eyes, and nodded in understanding. They would no longer hold back.

"_Confringo_!" Whileston snapped, "_Incarcerous_!"

Up on the landing, Harry threw himself away from the explosion and narrowly managed to redirect the binding hex; it would've been the end of him, had it landed.

Lying on the floor, he noticed the quiet; while there were pieces of house falling out of the walls and from the roof, the silence was very noticeable. The aurors below had not cast any more; perhaps they wondered if the Incarcerous had hit.

What did they take him for, he wondered, and carefully moved his wand through the banister.

"_Diserpens extis_!" The moment the purple light flashed, Harry felt immediate terror; what was this he had cast?

And then the auror, the one he had dubbed number two, screamed in pain as the curse, for that was what it was, tore through his _Protego_. The young boy could only watch in horror as entrails splattered over Aunt Petunia's perfect carpets, the shocked look in auror number ones eyes as his partner rapidly approached death's door. And then his eyes, sky blue and filled with confusion, narrowed and was clouded with rage. Harry, even in his daze, felt terror wash over him.

He watched with distracted eyes as a Reducto made its way towards him, feeling oddly disconnected. Harry supposed he would deserve anything he'd get after such a gruesome act; he was no better than Voldemort now. Red light reflected in his glasses.

_**No!**_, a voice screamed in his head, and Harry's body, unbidden, rolled to the side and brandished his wand once more. He had no time to even think about what was happening before he had cast multiple blasting curses, returning to his senses just in time to shield against the onslaught the auror returned at him.

The hallway of 4, Privet Drive, was a firework of colours, an orchestra of sounds and noises. In the kitchen, two muggles, mother and son, hid beneath the table, shaking in fear.

"I can't stay here," Harry thought to himself, "reinforcement will be coming. I need to escape, and fast!"

_Infernus tempesta_, someone whispered in his ear, and without a second of consideration he repeated it, brandishing his wand towards the auror as a massive whip of fire manifested itself.

It clashed against a _Protego Maxima_, liquid fire splashing from the impact; they tore into the walls, the roof, the floor, and Harry could see nothing but the bright white fires and they screamed and screamed and why did the fires scream?

Feeling the terror building up in his stomach once again Harry cut the flow of magic, watching in dreadful anticipation as the fires faded away. Below was nothing but a charred wasteland, blackened. Fires still ate at the house, and the smell of burning and sulphur tore at his nose. He did not notice, for yet again he was terrified beyond rational thought at what he had done - there had been people down there, his family, aurors. Aurors! They were on his side!

_Not any longer,_ something whispered to him, _now they are gone, but you remain. You must go, before more come! For this they will have your very soul!_

And Harry knew that what it said was true; no longer would they snap his wand and leave him as helpless as a squib - no, now they would have him Kissed, that much he was certain of. And it scared him, to think of himself powerless, helpless when the Dark Lord came for him; it terrified him more than any basilisk had ever done - the terror of a dementors presence was nothing, not to this. A mere husk of his former self, a breathing body with no soul - no, they would never catch him.

Walking down what remained of the stairs, he tried his best to ignore his surroundings. _He hadn't been himself_, he chanted, _it wasn't his fault_. But it was, and he knew he would hate himself for it. But not now.

The door was gone, the garden was lit up by the dancing reds and oranges behind him. In the distance, sirens told him the muggles were on their way.

Somehow, he was glad he was not affiliated with whatever Ministry division had to clean this up; the entire property was saturated in magic, evidence everywhere.

In the night air, flakes of ancient magic drifted around as the Blood Wards crumbled.

* * *

><p>Harry Potter fished his Firebolt out of his pocket, unshrank it and was already zooming towards the English Canal when a team of Aurors apparated in on the scene - closely followed by Dumbledore appearing in a flash of phoenix fire, his lime-green robes adorned with animated pineapples flaring; tonight he was not the senile, grandfatherly headmaster Cornelius Fudge had taken up arms against.<p>

This was Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindelwald and the only one Voldemort ever feared. The aurors shivered in his presence and allowed him entry to the ruins that was once a home, protocols be damned.

Not one of them noticed the single tear that fell past half-moon glasses.

* * *

><p>In London, in a gloomy old house belonging to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, a Sirius Black was pacing frantically.<p>

"But what if Dumbledore doesn't get there in time!" he yelled at his lifelong friend Remus Lupin, not appreciative of the latters attempt at calming him down in the least.

"I haven't been there for him before, and now you refuse me to go also, when he needs me! What kind of godfather am I?" Sirius ranted. At the table, Arthur Weasley was looking quite nervous, Kingsley Shacklebolt was staring a hole in the table and Remus seemed close to panicking at his failed attempts to calm down his friend.

"You couldn't have gone, Sirius, you know that. Don't worry, the moment we catch Pettigrew you'll be able to catch up on fifteen years of lost time."

Arthur looked quite curious at Remus's word choice, as it appeared Sirius fell into an even worse of a mood and quickly left.

"Redirect his anger," Remus explained, "now he'll spend some hours being angry at Pettigrew instead of himself, and he probably won't do anything stupid. I hope."

The Weasley patriarch was about to reply when the room was lit up by fire; Albus Dumbledore had arrived.

"Dumbledore!" Remus said in relief, "did you get him?"

But then the werewolf saw the headmasters expression, and he fell silent, eyebrows tightening in worry.

"What happened," asked Arthur, "is everything okay?"

Albus did not reply, and wearily took a seat - he took of his glasses, cleaned them off manually, not by magic, and then the audience knew he was stalling for time, and slowly put them back on his crooked nose.

"I fear," the aging headmaster began, "that Harry may have done something he shouldn't have. When I arrived at Privet Drive not much of the house remained, and there were already both muggle flame-men and aurors at the scene."

* * *

><p>Dumbledore was interrupted here by Sirius barreling back into the room, no doubt informed of the headmasters arrival by the ancient house wards.<p>

"Where is he, Dumbledore," Sirius began in a frantic voice, "where's Harry?"

Said man folded his arms on the table in front of him, forming a pyramid with his fingers.

"As I was saying, when I arrived at Privet Drive the house was destroyed, and law enforcement was already in place. I.. convinced them to let me enter first, and what I found there was not promising."

Dumbledore waved his hand, and a cup and a kettle came flying to the table - the tea poured itself, and the old man took a long sip, settling himself, and his mind.

"What I found there.. The aurors sent to snap Harry's wand were both beyond saving; the fire that ravaged the house had disfigured them beyond belief. I was still able to make out that one of them was killed by the Entrail Expelling curse, and I fear that.." here he was interrupted by a loud gasp, courtesy of Arthur Weasley. He, like the rest of the men in the room, looked incredibly pale, and his face spoke of great shock. When he noticed the attention he was given he colored slightly and muttered an apology, lowering his head and joining Shacklebolt in glaring at the table.

"As I was saying, I fear that the spell was cast by Harry. In the kitchen was the remains of Lily's sister and her son, where they appeared to have hid from the duel."

"_Duel_, Dumbledore?" Kingsley interrupted, his deep voice steady and controlled - but a subtle undertone spoke of great anger.

"Indeed, my boy. The entire area was saturated with magical energies, and even if some of it can be attributed to the fallen wards, there had to have been a great amount of spells cast. Going back to my observations, I found Harry's uncle hidden away in the living room, stunned. He had quite the severe burn damages, but was still alive as of the last time I saw him. Afterwards, I searched through what remained of Harry's room, and it appears like his Firebolt is missing, and his cloak of invisibility - as you know, the brooms anti-lightning defensive charms wouldn't have let it be consumed by fire, and the cloak, I can safely assure you, is an ancient magical heirloom - far stronger than any fire.

As such, I conclude that Harry is on the run - I did not inform the aurors of this, however, so they are likely drawing their own conclusions."

Sirius had been looking worse and worse the more Dumbledore said, and now he looked on the bridge of either fainting, or starting to throw lethal magic at whomever approached him. By the table, Kingsley was seething - the boy had killed people, Ministry people, and Dumbledore was holding back information? If there ever was a time Kingsley Shacklebolt had doubted his decision to join the Order of the Phoenix, it was now.

In the dark, cloudy skies over the English countryside a boy was racing towards the Canal, pressing himself tightly against the broom to maintain as high of a speed as possible.

He was cold, very cold, and as such he could not keep to the heights he would've liked; sometimes, when he left civilization and flew over darkened wild land, his feet almost skimmed the treetops.

Harry dared not cast a charm for warmth, as he knew the Trace would immediately notify the Ministry where he was, and from that, likely heading.

As it was, he doubted he could be caught; a single rider on the fastest broom in existence, even aurors would be chance-less.

As far as he knew, the auror division flew Nimbus 2000, which they had recently acquired after the complains about the Cleansweeps became so loud not even Fudge could ignore them. Harry dared to wager that the only possible way of stopping his flee now would be the _Protega Incursio_, but that, Harry knew, was an impossibility.

No matter the extent of Fudge's madness, not even Voldemort would go to such an extent; or so he hoped.

The Invasion Wall, so aptly named, was an ancient device fashioned by the Gaelic wizards of olden times. A ward the size of a country, completely barring all access, and exit - it was truly a wonder to behold.

When the wand bearing Romans came to Britannia, their only real obstacle had been the Wall; but the power of wands conquered even the ingeniousity of such a creation.

After standardization of wands and the establishment of the Ministry, the Wall was improved on until it became such a flawless device that Britain could truly call themselves unconquerable.

During the dark years of Grindelwald's reign on Europe the Ministry had on many occasions almost pushed activation of the Wall through, but faced strong opposition;

a ward covering the entirety of the British Isles, of such power that it would be visible even to the muggles, and as far as Scandinavia, undoubtedly, the Statute of Secrecy would either fall, or the world's obliviators would have work for a century.

No, Harry knew to himself, if he could stay on the broom till he could land on French soil, he would be safe.

To France they could not follow him, not the Ministry. The followers of Dumbledore likely had not the resources to chase him on a claptrap escapade in foreign lands, so if he could withstand the cold just over the Canal, his only worry would be Voldemort.

How he would survive in a foreign land without a single penny he knew not, but it would certainly be better than having his soul removed orally by one of the foulest creatures known to man.

* * *

><p>A man, clothed in black, appeared suddenly, without forewarning, with a mighty crack. Casting a glance around himself suspiciously, the man entered the foreboding gates in front of him; or perhaps entered was not the correct word, as the man seemingly passed through the gleaming metal as if it were but smoke.<p>

The gravel of the path crunched under his feet as he walked hurriedly towards the doors, which opened themselves as he approached. House elves, he supposed.

Inside was warmth and light, and from every corner shone luxury and richness. The man smiled to himself as he removed his hood, taking in the presence of a mighty and wealthy pureblood family home. Then he continued on his way - his Lord would not be kind if he were to waste any time.

In a large sitting room, where he came to, sat many of his accomplices and brothers; at the end of the massive table, with a snake curled around his chair, sat Lord Voldemort.

He fell into a respectful kneel immediately, before he proceeded to the table and took his customary seat.

"I have urgent news, my Lord," he started, "it is about Harry Potter."

The red eyes of the Dark Lord gleamed with interest, and he waved a hand.

"Go on, Avery," Voldemort said, while slowly stroking his massive familiar, whose head had risen as the newcomer had arrived.

"Yes, my Lord. Earlier this evening two aurors were dispatched to Potter's residence, where they were to destroy his wand for casting a Patronus in the presence of muggles. Reports indicate that there, Potter killed the two aurors as well as two of his family members, before he set the house on fire; potentially to cover up evidence. Then he fled, my Lord, and the Ministry is not aware of his location. He is possibly with.."

"Enough, Avery. I do not want to hear your theories on where Potter has ran off to - he is already hidden behind Dumbledore's wards, there is no doubt about this." Voldemort rose, his robes billowing, "What is the Ministry's stance on the Potter situation now?"

Avery, quick to try to gain favor with his master, replied immediately.

"He is to be captured if possible, my Lord. Upon capture I believe Fudge wishes to have him be executed by dementors kiss immediately. However, it is possible that.."

"I do not deal in possibilities, Avery," the Dark Lord hissed, and drew his wand, "I thought I made that clear only a few moments ago? Crucio!"

And as Avery screamed, the remaining Death Eaters shuddered at the fury of their Lord, and prayed and wished that they would not be next.

If the Potter boy went and got himself killed, the Dark Lord would undoubtedly be unbearable and they would all suffer the consequences - the amount of times he had specified that Potter was his, and his alone, was innumerable.

* * *

><p><em>The boy, soaked in stale water, pain running through his very veins and the panic, the panic at being in mortal danger, shrouding his vision, felt more helpless than ever before. <em>

_The handsome boy, the one that was **killing** her, had his wand, and he was going to **kill him**. He didn't know what to do, what he could do, he was going to **die**, he wouldn't - and then he rammed the fang into the little black book and (it bled!) the ghostly apparition screamed and screamed and it dropped his wand (blood everywhere blood bleeding) but he didn't care because he was being **torn **(tear) apart (rip) and (**kill!**) he couldn't see he couldn't hear he didn't know and then - then the handsome boy was nothing but a cloud of shadows, a cloud of shadows (cold blood **dead **(dead dead already cold) not real not real not real) in the air, it was real like the massive snake so cold now and the **dying **(she's dying oh merlin help please oh mer.. oh god help please help) girl and oh merlin he didn't know if he could - but then the smoke charged through him hadn't it done this before yes it had quirrel it had quirrel you **killed him** quirrel you **murderer** it had happened before it was voldemort he knew it and - he was a **murderer** just like him (like voldemort like voldemort who killed his parents like tom **-**) he was as bad -and he had to save her had to save her had to save -_

_**Harry!**_

He startled, noticing in panic that he had almost fallen of his broom, that he had fallen asleep - how could he have allowed himself such a blunder? Had he almost killed himself because he couldn't keep his eyes open?

Below him was sea, the English Canal, and in the distance he hoped was France. It was very dark now, and he flew low - high enough to avoid the cold of the sea but low enough to avoid the icy winds and subzero cloud temperatures.

A grueling fifteen minutes later Harry finally touched down in a clearing in the woods, not far from a cluster of lights that surely was a muggle town.

Immediately upon landing he threw himself from his broom, savoring the feel of dirt beneath his feet - his love for flying had taken a hit today, after such a performance. Harry felt an innate desire to kiss the ground, but he shook himself of the silly urge.

"Now," he muttered to himself as he looked around, "I need to find some kind of shelter where I will not freeze to death for the night."

As he said this, he felt a niggling feeling, as if someone was entertained on his behalf. He did not like it one bit - it was unsettling, in the darkness of a forest in unknown France, in the middle of the night.

Having snuck closer to the town, Harry had eventually found cover in a barn that had been left unlocked. The hay was not the most comfortable thing he had ever felt, but as someone who had lived in a cupboard for eleven years it would do just fine.

Slowly, he succumbed to sleep, wishing for pleasant dreams - for once.

At early dawn Harry Potter was awoken from his slumber by a soft hoot - opening his tired eyes, he saw the most beautiful sight he had seen in a very, very long time.

In front of him was one of his only friends, one he had wished and prayed would find him - she had, and now she was here. He could do nothing but grin widely.

"Hey girl," he said, "so you did find me, did you?"

Hedwig only pecked him affectionately, and he was about to brush his hand through her feathers when something came to him - tracking charms, check for them immediately; no delay! - and he pondered where this had come from. It would be prudent, of course, but he didn't know how the Trace worked, if he was safe from it, now.

A passage drifted to the front of his mind - from a book, hidden, illegal, unknown - the Trace is tied in to the wards of Britannia – powerful property wards could hinder the _all-seeing wards –_ he remembered laughing.

Harry let himself fall back down into the hay, holding his hands against his head as he groaned at the pain. Where had this come from? When had he read this? He desperately tried to find an answer, but his scar was pulsing in pain and he could not concentrate. He gave up.

Harry didn't know, and it scared him terribly. Was it connected to what had happened - what had happened yesterday? Even thinking about it made his stomach churn, and he hastily wiped the memory from his mind (shocked eyes blank face rage burn burn -) and (burning) drew his wand, if cautiously. The screams still echoed in his ears.

If the knowledge was false, if it was his imagination playing tricks on him, they'd know. He'd have to move, just in case - even if the Ministry could not chase him here he knew full well that enough of the Ministry was in Voldemort's pockets; the Dark Lord would know whatever the Ministry learned.

"Let's hope for the best then, Hedwig," Harry said, and tapped the snow white owl softly. A blue sheen ran over her, enveloping her in a cocoon of magic - it turned red, viciously red, and Harry felt anger creeping into his mind. How dared they, how dared they!

"_Quasso vestigo,_" Harry whispered, and the purple mist that seeped out of his wand snaked around Hedwig, tightening around the cocoon of detecting magic, merging into it - a duel of wills, caster of the charm against caster of the counter-charm. It was tough, the teen broke into a sweat as he willed the charm to break - it shook, magic was leaking, pulsing, and then - and then it shattered with the sound of a mighty bell, deep and clear.

He breathed heavily as it was done, letting the wand slip from his grasp. It fell into the hay, and lay there. Hedwig hooted softly, and now Harry at last could allow himself to pet her. Some time passed, before he rose suddenly, eyes flashing wildly at the entrances to the barn - the magic! He had cast the magic and they knew now they would come now where was his wand?

Hedwig pecked him, and the panic suddenly faded. He had to keep his mind clear, and stop panicking. It would do him no goodm he had to stay calm. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his wand and his broom.

"We've got to go, girl. You'll follow me, right?"

Wasting no time, Harry ran out of the barn, pulled the _Cloak _from his pocket and threw it over his head. Once it was securely fastened, he threw himself on the Firebolt, and left the ground.

A moment later a most curious sight could be seen above the French countryside - a broom with no rider, racing through the air, followed by an owl as white as snow.

The boy and his owl quickly left the coastal town behind, racing inlands - as far from Britain as they could get. The sun rose fully and shone for an hour before Harry finally allowed himself to land, collapsing to his knees.

Magic being thrown around, flying for many hours at high speeds, little sleep - no food, it was a wonder he was even conscious still.

Hedwig had broken away a few hours before, leaving to do whatever owls do - since it was daytime, perhaps seeking out a place to rest.

She'd find him later, he was certain. Hedwig had never failed to do so before, so Harry was certain she would be fine.

Now though, he thought as his stomach made unpleasant noises, it was time to find food. Tightening his invisibility cloak again, for good measure, Harry carefully snuck into the town he had landed by.

* * *

><p>"Harry has <em>what<em>?", Hermione Granger yelled, voice coloured by surprise. Beside her, Ron Weasley looked shell-shocked as his brothers, the twins Fred and George, finished their explanation.

Their faces had been sombre, in their arms they'd held fleshy tendons with vaguely human ears attached - Extendable Ears, a product developed for their joke shop.

They'd been listening in on the emergency meeting for the Order of the Phoenix, they said, and had gone on to retell the tale Dumbledore had spun of Harry's misdeeds, and subsequent escape. Now no-one knew where he was, they finished gravely.

"But," Hermione stammered as her face was clenched in confusion, "surely Dumbledore knows? He'd keep track of Harry, wouldn't he?"

"Afraid not, 'Mione," said one of the twins, "said that by the time he arrived Harry was gone, escaped on his broom, he thought."

"No clues or anything," the other twin continued, "there was a fire, and it burned almost everything - they said that the muggle flame-men pulled the uncle out just in time, before he.. Well, you know," he finished rather awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

"A fire? What, but how? Do they think Harry is okay?" Ron worriedly asked, glaring at the twins, as if daring them to joke around.

"From the duel, Dumbledore said. Apparently he could tell from the magical signature that it was Harry that.."

George got no further, for Hermione had apparently finally registered what he had said.

"Duel?!", she shrieked, and even if George would hesitate to call it a shriek in front of Hermione, in the safety of his own mind he was slightly uncomfortable at the similarities it held to when his mother caught one of his brothers doing something out of line.

"Ah, yes," Fred began, "apparently there was a fight between Harry and some aurors. Don't worry, Harry won."

"And.. the aurors?" Ron questioned carefully. He feared what the answer would be, and he felt no better as the twins immediately paled.

"Well, you see," Fred said, but broke off. It seemed like he hadn't the words.

"According to Dumbledore," George took over his twin's tangent, "the aurors did not make it out alive." George shifted, rubbed the back of his head, and added "We don't know what caused them to.. well, you know, die."

He noticed Fred casting a questioning glance at him, but he shook his head deliberately, slowly and unnoticeable.

It was probably best if Ron and Hermione didn't know the full extent of what Dumbledore had said. George sure wished he didn't.

He only hoped Harry knew what he was doing.

* * *

><p><strong>*Here I had a nice notice on a planned update schedule and everything. This was some months ago. I've come to realise that I cannot realistically uphold any semblance of a schedule, and have removed it. If (when, I hope. I do enjoy what I have going here) I decide to write more, I will. Then I will upload it. I hope.*<strong>

**First, the panicky dream-scene from the Chamber – please do tell me what you think about it. Personally I feel it needs a lot of work, but I don't know what to do with it or how to improve. I'd appreciate any comments, although I suppose I'd be happiest with constructive ones.**

**Now, for some interesting facts; the Firebolt can go from 0 to 150 miles in ten-seconds. If we say that the top speed is indeed 150 miles, it will take no more than 1 hour 40 minutes to fly from London to Paris straight.**

**Next, the spells I have used are either Canon or made up (by me, so I have full control. Using other peoples fanon spells I fear would lead to mixups.) The names are all pretty much English translated into Latin with Google, then changed up a bit so they sound better. Spell list is here:**

**-Vestigo; the Tracking charm.**

**-Quasso; prefix for a generic counter-curse to break various charms, hexes and curses.**

**-Diserpens extis; This would be the entrail expelling curse.**

**-Talpare; Disillusion Charm (Wasn't actually used in the final draft, but oh well)**

**-Infernus tempesta; Firestorm spell, which Dumbledore used in HBP in the cave.**


End file.
